As
raven cries above the trees, a pinecone drops. Wind races
through evergreen needles. The ripped canvas seems to her like an old
bird with wings thrashing attempting to fly from tree to tree. As the wind turns the canvas, it changes
from faded colors to the
dirty off white on the other side. On one side a child clearly sees an
old mission church on the orphan canvas ripped off its stretcher by the
wind. The church’s color seems to vaguely mirror the brighter color of
the sun as it floats as a big orange ball near the horizon. In the
distance, vestiges of ancient trees left from a fire followed by a
flood poke their silhouettes into the turbulent sky. She runs so
quickly to grasp the canvas, she almost trips. When she is within a
breath of the canvas, she grabs the canvas bird with an out stretched
hand. Happily, she walks quickly back down the
path as she dances the
canvas in her left hand. She piles it on top of other such canvas
birds. One she caught seemed to attempt to fly like a wounded
albatross, dragging the remains of a half-attached stretcher along the
ground. Others show the colors of old churches and barns, some the once
brighter colors of flowers, some the green of the forest, and a few
display many different colors with wild patterns...

White
Wolf again enters in the place of Worlds to Come. This time,
along with grass, herbs now cover the red Earth among the rocks. By the
river, While Wolf pauses between a breath. Her heart expands beyond her
exp eriences. Each experience shows only part of her heart. She once
felt rewarded for wisdom, but here her rewards are as small as a single
flash of sunlight off the water. Her wisdom becomes but a moment of
uncertainty in her journey to reach here. She glances at the river and
back at everything that came before; more than any other river this
ancient river changes.